


La belle et la bête

by Marsali



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asshole Orlesians, BAMF Josephine, BFF Dorian, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Adaar, Sweet lady kisses, Under Skirt Action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9428204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsali/pseuds/Marsali
Summary: And she had Dorian, who she had known from the start had a lot of demons of his own. Dorian who had told her to "fuck all of them, what do they know about us? Let them spit and curse at us, we will show them what we are made of."Nomi Adaar is used to people talking trash about her. But it still hurts. It always does.





	

Nomi Adaar was a tall woman.

 

Which, _duh_.

 

She was a qunari. Qunari equaled tall. As such, one would have thought that she was too conspicuous to sneak up on people or to hide in plain sight. She was in Ferelden and people here were usually not overly big. Everyone who was, stood out. Women more so than men. Add the horns and the fact that she was, somehow, the Inquisitor of an organization made in the name of a god she did not believe in and you had the antithesis to inconspicuous right in your hands to cradle and cherish forever, if you so fucking wished.

 

But.

 

Nomi had never wanted to be noticed. She had never wanted to be special. What she wanted was to be normal and if anyone _should_ notice her then not for her horns, or her height or her _huge heaving tits like a cow and mouth big enough it could suck even the fattest cock, don’t you think, Thomas?_

 

There had always been attention on her and it had almost never been overly welcome. The need to hide had only become greater the older she got until it had reached its stunning culmination when she was sixteen and didn’t leave her room for a week, no matter how her father pleaded and her mother threatened.

 

In the end, it had been her taciturn brother, Laurent, who had let himself in her locked room with ease and lurked inside it for several long minutes without her noticing, who had offered a solution.

 

“Wanna know how to do that?” he’d asked.

 

Hide in plain sight?

 

“Fuck, yeah,” she’d answered.

 

And that had been that.

 

She had become a rogue to hide.

 

But being a rogue had also taught her to snoop and snooping had become an irresistible thing that got her into one mess after another.

 

The biggest yet had led to her becoming the Herald of Andraste.

 

And then Inquisitor.

 

Like, _why the fuck_?

 

But, yeah. It wasn’t all bad. Nomi really couldn’t say that. The Inquisition had made her better. As in, she was a better person now. More confident. More open, too, since she had a bunch of new friends. Only one of whom was a qunari. The rest were all squishy humans or elves or dwarves. She had been a bit afraid to go near Varric at the start, because he was seriously tiny. But he had told her not to be stupid after he had noticed it and pointed out that dwarves were short but sturdy to make up for it.

 

So she had him. And Sera, who would sit on her shoulders and throw snow at guards before screaming shrilly at her to _run, run, run, Andraste’s tits, why aren’t you fucking running?_

 

She had Dorian, who she had known from the start had a lot of demons of his own because he was different too. Dorian who had told her to _fuck all of them, what do they know about us? Let them spit and curse at us, we will show them what we are made of._

 

And she had Bull who had been amused and proud to see a qunari acting as the figurehead of the chantry and who had said that she could _always come to me if you need anything. Advice, a shoulder to cry on, a tumble in the sheets. I’m here for you, boss, I mean that._

 

And she had Josephine.

 

Without the Inquisition there would be no Josephine and Nomi didn’t even want to think about that.

 

Meeting her? Talking to her, loving her, kissing her, touching her, _oh touching her_!

 

Even if she didn’t believe in the maker and didn’t think the chantry had been doing much good with its chant and the circles and everything … It had all been worth it to find Josephine.

 

Nomi was no fool. She knew they never would have become a couple if she wasn’t the Inquisitor. Where would they have even met? How would she have been able to get her attention? Josephine was too polite to stare at people simply because they were qunari and what else did she have going for her that could draw a person’s attention?

 

Now she had a glowing hand. That was attention worthy. Also, a great nightlight.

 

Sometimes she lay in the darkness of late hours, Josephine and herself bathed in the sickly green light the mark cast in the room, and let her mind wander to maudlin places where she wasn’t Inquisitor and Josephine passed her in a village or castle of some sort, not sparing one second look at her and Nomi’s heart thundering in her chest and her mouth unable to say something so that Josephine would stop. And then she would imagine watching Josie marrying that guy Nomi had dueled. And being happy. Not even knowing Nomi and not being less of a complete person for it.

 

Nomi tried not to think of it too often. But it was hard. Especially at the moment.

 

She was standing in the main hall of Skyhold, back to the wall, shrouded in the shadows as she only could be, because her brother had taught her how. Josie loved balls, soirées, functions. Nomi … not so much. She knew they were necessary and tried to never grumble too much about them being held but after three hours of nodding, smiling, and listening to people she did not know and did not like overly much, she needed a break.

 

Which was why she was hiding in plain sight. Varric knew, of course, but he had simply offered a sympathetic smile in her vague direction and not said a word.

 

Hiding, however, had stopped being a reprieve a few seconds ago, since an Orlesian couple, a man and a woman, had wandered over to her spot and started gossiping about all the people in the hall in a way only Orlesians could.

 

Thing was, they were not speaking in Common and Nomi only knew a limited amount of Orlesian. She had been learning over the last few months, but usually had too much to do to get very far in her lessons. But she recognized some of the words they were saying and knew that they had been saying something about Cullen and his hair. Which, yeah, okay, was pretty tame. And she knew he put some sort of product in it, he had admitted that over the war table once, so fine.

 

But now they were saying something about “l’ambassadrice” and she was less okay with that, because she knew that that meant they were talking about Josephine. And then they said the words “l’inquisiteur” and the man snorted indelicately and Nomi’s ears started burning.

 

They were talking about them both?

 

“Marcel a me dit que l’inquisiteur coucher avec l’ambassadrice. Immonde, non?” the woman said, voice muffled behind her green mask. Nomi wished she could see her face. Maybe that would tell her more about what exactly she was saying to the man.

 

 “Aberrant. Est-ce qu’il est sure, Cristelle?” he answered, something that sounded like surprise in his voice.

 

“Oui, absolument. Il a vu l’inquisiteur baiser mademoiselle Montilyet passionnéement dans sa bureau. Il dit que il a voulu s'arracher ses yeux.” A cruel laugh followed from both sides.

 

The man shook his head. “La belle et la bête. Minable.”

 

His ladyfriend laughed and swatted his arm. “La belle et la bête? C’est trop drole, Philippe! Très bien!”

 

La belle et la bête? She knew _belle_ meant beautiful but the other word she had never heard before. She didn’t feel like it could mean something nice, however. Though their words had been unknown to her, they tone had not.

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Even in hiding she was not safe. They had made fun of her and Josie. Somehow. She felt furious tears burning in her eyes as she soundlessly walked away from them. Could they not leave her alone? She had done so much for them, but still they had to gossip? Be mean?

 

She needed to know what they had said exactly. Nomi knew it would hurt even worse once she knew but that didn’t stop her.

 

Long out of the shadows she scanned the room for Dorian. She could ask Vivienne as well, but she seemed to be happily chatting with someone and besides Nomi always felt intimidated by her. Asking her about this didn’t feel safe. Not like Dorian did. She could always count on him to be on her side.

 

Finally, she spotted him lurking in a corner and staring into his goblet with a disgusted twist of his lips. There. He certainly wouldn’t mind her interrupting whatever that was about. She made her way to him.

 

Once she was almost in front of him he looked up and smiled a genuine smile at her.

 

“Nomi, come to rescue me from the most awful wine the Orlesians have made yet? It tastes of deep mushroom. Have you ever heard anything more disgusting?”

 

“Maybe,” she bit out. “I don’t know yet. I need you to translate.”

 

Picking up on her tone he frowned and let the goblet sink further down. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, concern obvious.

 

She shook her head. “What does _bête_ mean? It’s Orlesian but what does it mean in Common?”

 

He shook his head. “Why would you need to know that word?”

 

She made a frustrated sound. “Just tell me, if you know it!”

 

“Beast. It means beast. Now tell me why.”

 

It felt as if someone had upended a bucket of cold water of her head. She felt it trickling down her whole body, all the way to her feet until the entirety of her felt like it was freezing. Her hands became clammy.

 

“So,” she said, voice shaky. “La belle et la bête means …”

 

“The beauty and the beast? That’s an Orlesian play, I think. Was all the rage a few years ago. It was a bit quaint for my tastes, but well. Why does it bother you, though? You look like a gentle breeze could knock you over.” Dorian stepped closer and laid a hand on her upper arm. The touch grounded her, if only a little.

 

Nomi cleared her throat. “I heard a couple using the words. They weren’t talking about the play, I’m pretty sure.”

 

_C’est trop dole, Philippe. Très bien._

 

_That’s too funny, Philippe. Very good._

 

Oh, they must think themselves so clever.

 

Dorian shook his head infinitesimally and opened his mouth, as if to ask what she meant, before his eyes widened.

 

Even he. Even her friend Dorian didn’t take long to connect the dots. Because it was very good, the comparison Philippe had drawn. So good that he couldn’t mean anybody else but Josie and Nomi.

 

“It’s too funny, don’t you think?” she said, voice so quiet she almost couldn’t hear it herself.

 

At once Dorian’s face took on a furious expression, features drawn tight in anger, mouth sneering.

 

“Who? Tell me, who!” he demanded.

 

“It doesn’t matter. They aren’t the only ones who think that. And they won’t be the last.” She laid one of her hands on Dorian’s were it still rested on her arm. “It’s okay. I’ll just go outside for a bit. Fresh air and all that. And I don’t need to accidentally overhear more of Philippe’s and Cristelle’s gossip.”

 

Before he could object she had slipped out and was gone.

 

She practically ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. Then up the stairs again and onto the ramparts. She didn’t stop until she had reached the place where she had first met Hawke. It was there she let herself fall on the cold stone floor and scooted back until her back hit the wall. There, she drew her legs to her chest and rested her head on top of them.

 

She didn’t even know why she was this upset.

 

Oxman. Cow. Beast.

 

What difference did it make? She had been called the first two often enough so why was this hitting her so hard? Two Orlesians thought she was a hideous beast. Big deal.

 

But it was. It had to be, with her chest hurting that much and tears still burning in her eyes where she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

 

Maybe it was the comparison. On the one hand there was Josie. Who, on all accounts, inside and out, was beautiful. Her skin, soft, her eyes, sharp and bright, her mind, even sharper and brighter. Her voice with that accent so warm. And under all that ruffly clothing she preferred a body that was all curves and hidden spots that could bring her so much pleasure if touched just right. Nomi was a lovesick fool, she knew that, but she was addicted to stroking and licking and sucking and putting fingers where it was wet and velvety warm. Where they would be squeezed and make Josephine sigh and cry out.

 

She loved her. And even if she didn’t, she would know Josie was beautiful.

 

Nomi? Nomi was big. Long arms, big hands, long legs, big feet. Huge breasts for a human, average for a qunari. She knew her eyes were moderately pretty and she liked her lips and she knew Josephine did too, because she often said how full they were and how they were like petals on her skin. She had used to like her hair, because it was black like her mother’s and she didn’t have much else in common with her. But you couldn’t get around the horns. They and her size would always make her look like a big warning sign. People were afraid of tall, horned things. _Demon_ , the chantry mother in her old village had called her. _You will not tempt me. I have no desire you could feed._

 

That’s when she learned desire demons had horns. And huge breasts, for humans. 

 

Side by side what were they, but a beautiful woman and a beast of burden one might think about fucking when the situation became too dire and no one else was around?

 

She bit her lip and wished the sadness inside her was fury instead. Wished the hurt was searing hot instead of this cold thing that felt like hands grasping her heart and squeezing.

 

She couldn’t do anything about it. And she wasn’t so noble as to set Josie free or such nonsense. She knew Josephine loved her. Knew that not only through her words which said _You have become so dear to me, my love. Sometimes I sit in my office, hand on my heart, and think it must burst from how full it feels with love for you_.

 

But also through her touch. Hands in her hair, combing it out to lie intertwined with Josephine’s own fanned out on the pillow in her bed, midnight strands indistinguishable from each other. _Now, nobody could say where you begin and I end. Quite fitting for how I feel._

 

No, she was sure of Josephine. If she could hide away with her, all would be right with the world.

 

But she couldn’t and the world was a wrong, cruel place that would call her beast and only see that and nothing beyond or underneath or within.

 

She heard the sound of approaching footsteps and tried to make herself smaller. Always smaller.

 

To no avail.

 

“There you are,” an accented voice said and Nomi let her head shoot up to look at Josephine who looked splendid in the dark blue gown she had put on for the occasion.

 

Nomi herself had opted for a dress, but while she had thought she looked dashing in the red  and black lace before she now felt like she had been playing dress up. If you put lipstick on a pig it’s still a pig. Only made up. If you put a qunari girl in a dress she’s still a beast. Only dressed up.

 

“Hey,” Nomi murmured as an answer.

 

When Josephine made to sit beside her on the ground her eyes widened in alarm. “No, don’t! You’ll ruin your dress!”

 

“Who cares about the dress,” Josie huffed and sat down anyways. Once settled, she arranged the skirt of it around her legs and crossed them at the ankles.

 

“You do,” said Nomi, who had laughingly watched Josephine twirl around in her quarters yesterday, delighted with how the skirt billowed around her when she did.

 

“Not more than I care about you,” Josephine insisted.

 

“You can care about me standing up too, you know.” She shook her head. “Why are you out here instead of in there? I haven’t been gone that long, the party can’t be over already.”

 

“It’s over as far as I am concerned. Let the others do what they will.” Something about her tone seemed strange and Nomi turned her upper body to face Josephine, angling her legs to the side on the floor, both knees bent. “Is everthing alright?”

 

Josephine huffed and pressed the backs of the fingers of her right hand to her cheek. “I should be asking you that. Never mind me.”

 

“Why would you need to ask me if I’m alright?” Nomi asked, guarded.

 

Josie’s eyes flitted to hers. “I had a rather unpleasant chat with Dorian just now.”

 

Nomi felt the corners of her mouth tugging down. She hadn’t wanted Josephine to know. Why couldn’t have Dorian let it be? But he never could. That was just how he was, damn him.

 

“It doesn’t matter, Josie,” Nomi said, averting her gaze and lowering her head so she could stare at her hands, which were gripping each other in her lap.

 

“It very much does!” Josephine cried out and Nomi couldn’t help but look at her, surprised by the outburst.

 

Her lover’s eyes were practically burning and her face was scrunched up as if she were in pain. “Those … cretins don’t know what they are talking about.”

 

“They just talked about what they saw.” Nomi tried for nonchalance and shrugged. It was enough that she herself was hurt. Josie didn’t have to be, too.

 

“They were talking out of prejudice. Of hatred. Nothing about what they said was true!”

 

Nomi couldn’t help but laugh. “You are beautiful, Josie. And I rather look like a cow. Or like the beast in one of their stories.”

 

Josie’s face became stricken. “You are no beast! You are so, _so_ beautiful, Nomi. You have to know that. Tell me, you do.”

 

Nomi couldn’t help but make an unhappy noise at the compliment. She had never been very good at accepting those.

 

“You actually don’t. You don’t believe me.” Josie’s expression was made up of a mixture of anger, sadness and incredulity. “All this time you thought I was lying when I told you, you were good looking?”

 

“No. I think _you_ believe that I am. But you love me. You kind of have to think I’m prettier than I actually am. I read that somewhere.” One of the books in Skyhold’s library had been about that. She had picked it at random, but it had been quite interesting.

 

“What utter nonsense!” Josephine exclaimed. She drew herself up on her knees and clasped both of her hands around Nomi’s. “If it’s just the love talking when I say I love you hair, why did I hear Ritts say a few weeks ago that she wanted to bury her hands in it and see if it smelled as nice as it looked?”

 

Nomi’s eyebrows shot up. Ritts who she had found in the Hinterlands with her dead lover? “No way she said that.”

 

“Yes, she did,” Josephine insisted, determined look on her face. “And if it’s just the love in me speaking when I say I love your voice, why did Bull tell me that he envies me because last time you were telling a story at one of your missions with him he fell asleep to it, because it was so soothing, even though you had fought demons and he felt uneasy?”

 

She felt her cheeks warm. Bull had said that? He had conked out pretty fast last time they were out in the Wastes and making camp at night, but she had thought her story was just extra boring.

 

Josephine still wasn’t done, yet.

 

“If it’s just the love in me talking when I say I love your lovely, _lovely_ face why did Leliana tell me she caught two mages staring at you in the chantry garden and one of them telling the other he had talked to you once about a potion he invented and that couldn’t get out one straight sentence because you were so beautiful and he felt so attracted to you?”

 

That … Did she mean Stefan? The mage who had stuttered so badly when talking to her about the potion he had come up with? But he had been afraid, that’s why he stuttered. Wasn’t it?

 

“If it’s just the love talking,” Josie continued “when I say that I love the way your horns curl, why did Sera ask me if I ever held onto them during …”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Nomi interrupted her, making Josephine laugh. At this point her face felt like it was on fire. Did people really talk about her that way too? Not just in a derogatory manner, but about how they liked how she looked?

 

“I didn’t know people were saying things like that.”

 

“And why wouldn’t they? It’s true. You are lovely. Inside and out.”

 

Nomi smiled a little. “Thank you. For telling me all of that. Well, not the last bit, but …” She shrugged again and lifted one hand to Josephine’s cheek. Josie turned her head and pressed a kiss to her palm. The skin under her lips tingled.

 

It wasn't like it silenced all the voices in her head, saying she wasn't enough, but right now they had lessened to a subdued murmur in the face of Josie's insistence. 

 

“I only want you to not let those nobles get you. It’s not like you’ll see them again.”

 

Nomi frowned. “How can you be sure? I don’t even know who they are and it isn’t like I would ban them from Skyhold or anything.”

 

Josephine chuckled in a way that was not nice at all. “Philippe and Cristelle, their names were, Dorian said. Is that not true?”

 

Nomi nodded. “Those are the names I heard them say. And Marcel, I think.”

 

Josephine tutted. “Cristelle and Philippe Dufour. Marcel would be their lover. Not that it matters. I’ve made sure they think he is cheating on them. Sad story. When Philippe has been sleeping with Cristelle’s sister for years and Cristelle has developed a liking for … less human companions herself.”

 

Nomi almost choked. “Really? Less human … you mean … Is that true?”

 

Josephine grinned wickedly. “Oh, they will certainly think so come morning.”

 

Understanding swept over her. “Josephine, you didn’t!”

 

“I certainly did!” She shook her head and tapped on Nomi’s legs to get her to straighten them out, before she sat astride her lap, skirt bunching prettily around her tights. Nomi laid her hand on Josie’s hips and let her fingers trail down to play with the cool material.

 

“They hurt you. They deserve worse.”

 

“It’s not the first time I heard stuff like this about me. Won’t be the last time either.”

 

“Let them talk, then. They’ll see what it will get them.” There was a fierce determination in Josephine’s voice that made Nomi shiver.

 

“You can’t wreck the life of everyone who dares to insult me,” she said jokingly but was met only with seriousness.

 

“Can’t I?”

 

Nomi swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Josie …”

 

“No. I refuse to allow this. This … blind prejudice of people. They should see you for who you really are. Not for what they were taught or are used to or what they heard.”

 

Josephine pressed her mouth to Nomi’s and Nomi could not help but moan and draw Josephine closer to her by her waist. Despite the hardness of the kiss her lips were so soft and so perfect and Nomi felt she could die like this right now and be happy.

 

“I love you. And I’ll always protect you. I’m not very good at fighting anymore. But this, I can do. Use words as weapons and have them flay away whatever good reputation or connections these people have and turn them into dust.”

 

Nomi looked into Josephine’s eyes and could for the life of her not come up with a response to that. “I love you, too,” she said helplessly and laughed a little when Josie’s tight expression gave way to a smile and a girlish giggle.

 

“I’m still not used to you saying that.”

 

“You will be, one day. I plan on saying it often,” Nomi answered and drew Josie into a kiss that soon grew heated and had her curling her fingers into the flesh of Josephine’s hips to press her down harder against her lap, while meeting her with her own.

 

“Maybe we should take this inside?” Josie asked with a gasp.

 

“Maybe not,” Nomi answered while sneaking one of her hands under Josephine’s skirts and letting it trail up, up, up her leg until she reached the spot that made Josie gasp again.

 

Nomi had seldom felt so loved and daring than during these minutes on the ramparts, cool night air kissing her flushed skin, and her lover squirming in her lap, all gripping hands and bitten lips and pleas of _oh, oh, don’t stop, I’m about to, I’m-_ getting swept away with the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! With the new version of "Beauty and the Beast" looming on the horizon this idea popped into my head and I had to write it. I hope I didn't butcher the French too badly. It's been some years since I had to use it, so if the remnants of the French I learned in school have let me down, please let me know!
> 
> “Marcel a me dit que l’inquisiteur coucher avec l’ambassadrice. Immonde, non?”  
> "Marcel told me that the Inquisitor is sleeping with the ambassador. Disgusting, isn't it?"
> 
> “Aberrant. Est-ce qu’il est sure, Cristelle?”  
> "Abnormal. Is he sure, Cristelle?"
> 
> “Oui, absolument. Il a vu l’inquisiteur baiser mademoiselle Montilyet passionnéement dans sa bureau. Il dit que il a voulu s'arracher ses yeux.”  
> "Yes, absolutely. He saw the Inquisitor kissing Lady Montilyet passionately in her office. He says he wanted to scratch his eyes out."
> 
> “La belle et la bête. Minable.”  
> "The beauty and the beast. Pathetic."
> 
> “La belle et la bête? C’est trop drole, Philippe! Très bien!”  
> "The beauty and the beast? That's too funny, Philippe! Very good!"


End file.
